Discernment often resembles a fable
When translating the language composed by women
As tantalizing as these creatures may be
Various medleys of gestures so fallaciously are given

On certain occasions it appears that
One’s efforts have been green lit
When so suddenly red flags are discovered
Dancing amidst the clouds


Gradually the entire project
Grows to be eminently disheartening
Women, the puppeteers that they reflect,
Behave as if the universe
Is a vaginal duplication
Although society may deem that laughable
The results of such callousness
Quite strangely are familiar…